The Whomping (Yet Giving) Tree
by RavenclawReality
Summary: A tale of a tree who loved a boy. And a boy who loved a tree. This is a parody, with my apologies to Shel Silverstein.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Giving tree.**

**My deepest apologies to Shel Silverstein for what I'm about to do to his classic.**

Once there was a tree. A magical, energetic tree. And she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come, and he would gather leaves and sticks that had fallen a safe distance from the tree. And make them into crowns and swords and play Founder of Gryffindor. He would run too close to her trunk. And get thrown by her branches. And when he was tired, he would read in her shade. But not for too long, for he valued his life, too.

And the boy loved the tree (when he wasn't running away from it). Very much (depending on your definition of love). And the tree was happy.

But time went by, and the tree was often alone. The boy grew older. And bigger. And hairier. One night the boy came to the tree and the tree said:  
"Come Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing in my branches and play in my shade and be happy."  
"I don't have enough time to climb trees," said the boy. "I only have a minute before the moon rises. I want a house to be away from everyone," he said. "I want to transform in privacy, so when I lose my mind I don't murder everyone here. Can you give me a house?"  
"I have no house," said the tree. "I can't go inside Hogwarts, for the same reason you can't." said the tree. "But you may press on that knot," the tree gestured toward a twisted root, "and climb through my secret passage, and find a shack. Then you will be happy."

And so the boy ran for his life. And found the shack. He screamed and howled, almost tore up the walls and tore up himself. And the tree was happy.

But time went by. And the boy stayed away for a long time, only visiting on nights of desperation. The tree knew that to be an indication of an unhealthy relationship. And the tree was sad.

Then one day, during a crescent moon phase, the boy came back. The tree shook with joy (literally), and she said:  
"Come Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and play in my shade and be happy."  
"I am too popular to climb and play" said the boy. "I want to make up schemes with my new friends and have fun. I want to be cool. Can you make me cool?"  
"I'm sorry" said the tree, "but I am not cool. All the other trees are more popular than I am. Climb up my branches boy, and be tall. Tall men are aesthetically pleasing, and preferred in today's society. When you look tall, you will be cool and you'll be happy."  
And so the boy, who had let his social ambition and rowdy friends get in the way of his good judgment, attempted to climb up the tree. He was whacked in the stomach and smacked in the head.  
"Psych!" said the tree. The boy was not amused. "Now you have battle wounds, which are also cool. You have a story of how you were brave enough to try to climb me. Go tell your friends at Hogwarts, and be cool."  
And so the boy ran to go brag about his latest adventure. And the tree was happy.

But after that the boy was distracted. He would only come back on nights when he wasn't himself. He brought other creatures that caused mayhem and climbed where they weren't supposed to. Then the boy stopped coming back at all. And the tree was sad. She grew lonely and developed manic depressive tendencies.

When the boy returned, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak.  
"Come Boy," she whispered, "Come and play."  
"If only playing could pay the bills," said the boy.  
The tree was confused.  
"I'm unemployed," said the boy. "No one will hire a werewolf. I need a steady career where I won't be a victim of discrimination. Can you get me a job?"  
"I cannot legally employ you," said the tree. "But if you look tortured and alone, Professor Dumbledore may take pity on you and hire you. Come boy, come climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and let me hurt you."  
The boy was somewhat scared by this request. He could not think of another solution, however. So the boy approached the tree. He attempted to climb her trunk and play in her branches. When it got too brutal, the boy walked off to go get his job. And the tree was happy.

The boy grew busy once again. He did not visit the tree anymore. She became so lonely. Occasionally she would weep. No one had ever loved her like the boy did. She worried he would never return.

But he did. He came on a dark night, with magic beams shooting back and forth. It was hard to hear him with so many people shouting and crying.

"Come Boy," said the tree. "I'm scared. Please come and climb up my trunk and swing in my branches and play in my shade and be happy."

The boy laughed. "Now is not the time. I am too weak to climb, and too injured to fight. I need to defend Hogwarts from this evil. Can you do that for me?"

"I do not know how to fight evil," said the tree.

"Just do what you do best," said the boy. "Thrash around, and try to knock over the men in black hoods."

So the tree tried her very best. She only wanted the boy to be happy.

Then she was hit by a blasting curse. And exploded. Only a twitchy little stump remained.

"Boy?" said the tree. "Are you alright?"

"I got hit too," said the boy. "Is there anything you can give me?"

The tree thought for a moment. "I have nothing left to give you."

The tree could no longer move. Neither could the boy.

"You've always given me so much," said the boy. His voice was growing fainter.

"I know," said the tree. "I've helped you with all your problems. I've never asked for anything. And I was exploded."

"Why did this have to happen to you?" the boy asked.

"Life sucks," said the tree. And it did.

"Just stay by my side," the boy whispered. And she did.

**THE END**

Written for round one of finals in Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, as Keeper for the Chudley Cannons.


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